Lake Danson: she's become cold..

she's become cold..

Posted by Lily on August 29, 2009, 2:58 am
216.220.216.153

Years had passed since the tri-color femme had stepped on mountain soil. It had been years since the mountain had had more than a teaspoon of life. There had been tragedies. Plagues, Tazendre, and others. Times had not been so peaceful. Lily had abandoned the mountain in an effort to save what remained of her family. She hadn't been able to say goodbye to her other half. Nor her love, the mighty and kind Lestat. Her childhood sweetheart.

It had been a bad decision to leave. Her youth, if they were even alive were scattered across the land. She was almost certain Sylver had ended up in that shadowed land of which she no longer spoke or thought. She was no longer even sure he was alive. She was a terrible parent.. But her mothering could only extend so far.. Her pups were their own vessels with their own personalities. And they were wilful little clones of their father.

Lestat.

A cool wind wrapped around her, twirling the collie's long black and white fur.

She closed her green eyes and greedily filled her lungs with the fresh, magical mountain air. It was good to be home. It brought a smile to her tan muzzle. It was good to be back in the land of fate, magic, and mythics. Where legends were born as much as made. There was no place like her childhood home. And she knew it for sure now. She had left more than once. But no journey had been greater than her last one. And it was safely behind her now. And her sore paws were healed. She was home.

Home and all alone.

Her old haunts, the hunting grounds, would be too painful to return too. That was where the farmer had left her when she was just a fuzzy ball of fur. That was where Lestat found her. That was where Lestat proposed to her. Dear Lestat. Her heart yearned for him so. But she realized she had no ties to him anymore. She had been gone too long. He probably assumed she had died. She had loved him and lost him. She had convinced herself of this beyond a doubt. But to Lily it was far greater to of loved and lost than to never of loved at all. And to of had him, and birthed the children, she was content. Even if she never loved again (which was likely), she had comfort.

But she may never visit her old haunts again. Her ghosts were fine where they ere. In the past.

So that was how the collie fem found herself on the banks of river
Danson. Sitting with her white forepaws in the sandy beach, a faraway smile on her face as she watched the current drift lazily downstream, or the occasional ripple or splash of an active trout. The sight and sound was mesmerizing and she looked very peaceful.

But her tasseled ears were laid back, and they twitched with noise. She was mesmerized, but not totally without caution. She of all people remembered how dangerous this mountain could be, having been here for a lot of it.